


What If?: An Avengers Story

by lewiscw



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2414033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewiscw/pseuds/lewiscw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative approach to the climactic Battle of New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If?: An Avengers Story

**IRON MAN**

 

“JARVIS, put everything we’ve got into the thrusters!” cried out Stark as the titanium alloy husk around him was pounded by the Chitauri. One thud knocked his head down, only for him to be knocked down again as soon as he lifted himself from the ground.

“I just did,” replied the formal voice of JARVIS. Even in the worst situation, that British accent provided a minor amount of comfort. The suit lifted from the streets of Manhattan, the alien that clung to his leg falling back down as it lost its grip. There was a nuclear bomb inbound, and Tony was the only one who could stop it. Thor could have tried, but flight from the hammer in his hand would have made it too difficult for him to grab the missile in mid-air. Thus, the lives of his teammates and the citizens of the island were in his hands.

Blurred and monumental towers stood in Iron Man’s path as he navigated through the maze, heading to the open water where the missile was coming in from. Pillars of smoke reached for the skies, fires igniting orange lights across the skyline. The city was in complete devastation from Loki’s attempt at claiming the Earth and Tesseract for his own. The Avengers would not let it happen, no matter the cost.

Tony Stark’s thoughts grew distant. You’re not the kind of guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you. They were words from a man much more experienced than himself; a man who knew the effects of war first hand. If it came to it, which it likely would, Stark _would_ be the one letting others crawl over him. This nuclear missile would need to be taken through the wormhole; both would go in, both may not come back out again.

But his thoughts had distracted him.

A pair of Chitauri soldiers slammed straight into him on their chariot, ripping him from his course. The suit cushioned the blow, yet that did not prevent the blinding pain in his abdomen and back as he crashed into the nearest building.

“We’re out of time, Sir,” informed JARVIS, an unnatural sound of regret lacing his words.

“Cap,” Stark wheezed, pulling himself out of the side of the building that he had been lodged into. “Tell Thor to take you clear of Manhattan. This is a lost battle; we can’t avenge from beyond the grave. I’ll get Clint, Natasha and Hulk. Go. _Now_.”

 

**THOR**

 

One after one they came, one after one they fell. Against the mighty Thor, the Chitauri stood no chance. Mjolnir was splattered with the thick, dark blue ooze of war. His armor protected him from the relentless blow, and on occasion, so did his trusty hammer.

Captain America and the Thunder God let fought against the onslaught of aliens, each of them facing in opposite directions to cover one another’s back. The two of them made excellent partners; they communicated, they were strong, and above all, they understood what it was to make a sacrifice.

With an almighty thud, Steve’s body crashed down against the rubble littered floor as he received the blast from an alien weapon. Immediately, Thor’s attention was clasped as he turned, witnessing the scene. Four or five of Loki’s minions marched towards them, using a vehicle as their cover, but not for long. One might strike of the hammer, and their defense had betrayed them, leaving them crushed. Then, his attention turned to behind him: more were making an advance against them both. Mjolnir flung out from his palm, striking down the line of aliens. Now, he had chance to breathe, and to help his ally to his feet.

“You ready for another bout?” the Thunderer inquired, assessing the damage done.

“What,” panted out the Captain, “you gettin’ sleepy?” A coy grin adorned Steve’s lips as he used Thor’s shoulder for a support.

Moments before the Asgardian was about to make a response of his own, he heard the familiar yet muffled voice of Tony Stark. Rogers’ face contorted; quite clearly, he was not happy. “Get us out of here,” he regrettably ordered, avoiding the eyeline of the towering God. “We need to be clear of the city.”

“Aye.” With that, and a secure grip of Steve, Mjolnir whipped up a gust and propelled them into the air, clearing them of the city.

 

**CAPTAIN AMERICA**

 

The fighting didn’t seem to stop. The pounding against the vibranium shield echoed in Steve Rogers’ head, as if it was a noise as familiar as the alarm that woke him every day. The civilians of Manhattan were his top priority. Captain America was a symbol of hope and protection; what would he be if he was to fail them all?

Barton’s words rung in his ear, informing him of a bank full of cornered civilians. “I’m on it,” he responded, clambering up to his feet. Swiftly, he sprinted through the streets, making his way to the aforementioned building. He wasn’t going to sit by as a group of Chitauri terrorised innocents.

One gracious leap, and he was in through the window of the first floor, thanks to the assistance of a vehicle outside. Instantly, Steve’s sapphire eyes locked on to the alien holding a device - a bomb, no doubt - that stood over a balcony, watching the group of helpless people. Slinging the circular shield came naturally to him, and as expected, it whacked against the alien, knocking him back as the device fell from his grip. His fists and feet made light work of the other foes, knocking them unconscious. And then, the first Chitauri rose once more. Instinctively, he dove for his shield as it dove for the bomb, ultimately tossing it in his direction.

Sacrifice.

A fluid motion pulled the shield into his grip, holding it close to him as he formed a ball behind it, protecting him from the blast. He was thrown out of the window, landing on the car that had aided him in gaining access to the bank. To Steve, it was a relief. He’d much rather be the one taking the blow, than the innocents inside.

It took a few moments for him to come to his senses; his head was throbbing, his vision white and blurred. The hand on his shoulder snagged his attention, revealing his ally, Thor, standing beside him.

“Captain,” he greeted. “We have not time to rest. We must fight on.” The God’s words inspired courage within him, courage to keep the furnace of war fueled and heated.

The two of them worked cohesively, engaging the enemy in every way they could, until Stark’s words filled his head.

No... Retreat wasn’t an option for Steve. He couldn’t leave the city. _This is a lost battle; we can’t avenge from beyond the grave._ More blood would be on his hands than there already was, and the blood of a best friend long gone would never clean away, no matter how hard he tried. His jaw clenched, frustration filling him as Thor gripped on to him.

There was no other way.

This was it.

 

**BLACK WIDOW**

 

“I can close it... Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!” The immense and unrelenting heat of the Tesseract’s energy barrier pressed against her, the sceptre in her hands ablaze against her palms. Selvig had set up a computer, guiding Natasha with instructions on how to disable the energy source, ultimately closing the wormhole that had torn a doorway into space above Stark Tower.

“No, wait,” cut in Stark, his voice laced with grief and worry. “Drop what you’re doing. I’m getting you out of there.”

“Stark, I can close the portal,” she echoed, as if it would push him from his decision. “We can stop them from sending any more.” Romanoff’s cheeks were stained with dirt and blood, her features full of frustration.

“There’s a nuke inbound; I can’t make it in time to guide it away without it blowing up in my arms. I’m coming to pick you up to take you clear of the city.”

That was when Natasha understood why he would want to get them clear. A nuclear blast would decimate the city, as well as every person in it. If they were to be inside of the radius, there would be nobody to avenge and to protect the innocent lives. Fleeing wasn’t something that she would be proud of, but returning and fighting back would be. She already had enough guilt tying her down, no thanks to her past of manipulation and treachery; something she was far from proud of.

“Okay,” she voiced, letting go of the sceptre. “We’re ready.”

The sacrifices of thousands of lives would not be forgotten, not by Natasha. She would not let them die in vain.

 

**HAWKEYE**

 

“We’re getting out of here!” barked the billionaire, clasping Clint’s hand before he had a chance to ask why. A low current passed through him, his digits locking firmly around the metal forearm. War and bloodshed were thick in the air, even at this height, as Tony carried him over rooftops, heading straight for Stark Tower. There were no stops, not even the smallest. They were living on borrowed time.

Iron Man had explained the situation, and that the only other way to combat it would be to guide the nuke back out over the ocean. However, JARVIS had calculated that it would serve no purpose; by the time Stark latched on to the bomb, he’d have ten seconds to turn it around. At the speed it was going, he’d get it to a halt before it exploded, lighting up the city and the sky.

Barton felt helpless. He couldn’t do _anything_ to help. The other Avengers had their armoured suits, their super soldier serums, or even their gamma-irradiated split personalities. All he had was a bow and an arsenal of trick arrows, none of which could disarm a nuclear bomb mid flight.

Seconds had barely passed, and they were atop Stark Tower. Not a word was exchanged between the four of them; Clint simply reached out, grasping Natasha’s wrist as Tony’s free hand clamped around Selvig’s, securing him.

The current flowing through the archer passed down to the redheaded agent, keeping her firm in his grip. He wouldn’t let go of her. He’d made a different call for her, he’d kept her safe and out of harm’s way, even if that had meant getting himself caught in the crossfire. To him, Romanoff was his best friend. Making sacrifices to keep her protected were worth it.

Natasha was worth it.

 

**THE HULK**

 

To some, Bruce Banner was a broken man; a fragile, weak man who was tormented by himself, to the point of no return. To some, he was a scientific genius unlike any other. To himself, he was alone. Alone, isolated, and excluded. He could never fit in with society, not now, not ever.

The Avengers was a second chance for him.

Tony Stark, clad in armour, had dropped from the sky whilst the Hulk was in the middle of a lake of Chitauri, wading through them with his fists aiding him in clearing the way. Stark wasn’t around for long; he told him that he had to go, _now_ , and to be clear of the city. Had they won..? No, it couldn’t be that. The wormhole was wide open, wave after wave of foes cascading in with the intention of obliterating the city. What was going on? A leap propelled him from one building to another, the brick and mortar crumbling in his emerald palms as he scaled the towers.

Stark Tower was the source of the wormhole: was that where he was supposed to go? As he grappled up the sides of the buildings, he could hear the cries of the Chitauri, almost as if they were shouting the worst word that the Hulk could have heard from them.

Victory.

Fierce celadon hues looked straight to the sky, seeing Iron Man moving as far from the city as he could, three others clinging to him. Were they fleeing? The Hulk didn’t understand.

That was when he felt it.

The familiar tingle across his flesh.

Radiation.

Now, his eyes were out over the horizon, locked onto a small white blob in the far distance. A nuclear bomb. It _had_ to be. And, it was heading right at the crown of Stark’s skyscraper.

Without a second of hesitation, his palms gripped against the surface beneath, his feet digging in and kicking him up, launching him into the sky, right at aforementioned Tower. The green behemoth’s body wouldn’t stop, as if he was pumped on adrenaline. Once at the plateau atop the building, he stood, waiting for the missile, watching it fly effortlessly through Manhattan’s smoke-filled sky.

Betty Ross’ voice was as clear as day, as if she was there right next to him, her palms around one of his fingers. She looked up to him, seeing only the man beneath, not the monster.

" _You didn't decide to become the Hulk, Bruce,_ " she whispered lovingly, " _But you get to decide what the Hulk becomes._ "And that he did. He had already decided what the Hulk was going to become.

A hero.

The nuclear bomb was in range now. The beast stood in position, ready to make his move.

Three... Two...

One.

Two arms came out, the missile hitting the Hulk in the stomach, an unnatural sound forcing out of his parted lips. The explosion came in all its force, but not to the city.

The towering brute had absorbed the colossal radiation, the explosion activating under his flesh. It was far too much for him to handle. From inside, it ripped him apart, the agonizing pain rendering him lifeless within seconds.

The ultimate sacrifice was given, so that others may live, so that they may thrive, be happy, and have peace; something that he had never had.

Robert Bruce Banner _was_ a hero; always had been, always will be.

He would not be forgotten.


End file.
